White Roses
by overlydramatic88
Summary: Big Red?" He asked. "The name is Marie, Alden. You should give it a try some time." "No." he said simply, then paused. "Get rid of your cinnamon scented candles if you don't want the nickname to stick."


"What would you do if I were to die?"

Alden looked over at me sharply, confusion shining in his bright green eyes. We were in my room, only lit by the moon glowing through the window and the small lamp on my mahogany wood desk. The house was quiet; My younger brother and father had gone for the evening, to their weekly father/son bowling league.

I had the house all to myself, and I chose to share it for the night with the guy i'd been in love with since the moment I laid eyes on him.

I'd known Alden Robinson since the ninth grade: I had been sitting by myself in the library, and he had casually joined me, teasing me about my choice in reading material. Apparently he wasn't a huge fan of Oscar Wilde. That changed over the years, thanks to me shoving various books into his locker when he wasn't looking.

We didn't get along at first, mainly because I refused to acknowledge that I liked him and it drove him crazy. We spent the first few months of our relationship with him randomly stopping by my house, or driving by when I was walking home. He knew I had noticed him, yet I hadn't spoken, just to irritate him.

Eventually he had gotten the hint that he wasn't getting any, and he chose to be friends rather than nothing.

There isn't a word strong enough to measure how relieved I was when he wanted to stay in my life even if I didn't want him as a boyfriend.

We had different taste in movies, music, literature, _and_ hobbies. Yet somehow over the past few years we've managed to put aside our differences and remain buddies.

I was there by his side when he started dating the school slut, and he was there to hold my hand after i'd had my heart broken by an insensitive jock. It killed me to see him with other girls, and I really wish it didn't, because i'd never be good enough for him and I would never know how to tell him that.

Now here we were, sitting alone in my bedroom on a Wednesday night, completely silent but for the occasional sound of our voices.

"What kind of a question is that?" he asked me, his voice quiet, confused.

I shrugged innocently, avoiding eye contact.

I was sitting indian style on the cushioned window seat, my red hair clashing with the dark blue walls behind me. He stood suddenly, walking over to sit with me, taking my hand in his.

"Big Red?" He asked.

"The name is Marie, Alden. You should give it a try some time."

"No." he said simply, then paused. "Get rid of your cinnamon scented candles if you don't want the nickname to stick."

I gave a weak laugh, looking out the window. The lights were out across the street, but the streetlights shone on my neighbor's garden, their white rose bushes clearly visible from where I sat.

"I love flowers." I said, staring at them. He ran his hand over mine, rubbing it gently.

"I know." he replied.

"They represent everything. They're always there, through mourning and celebration."

He was silent, turning my wrist over in his hand to slide his fingers over my palm. It tickled, but I let him continue, it was relaxing.

"Marie?" he asked. I looked back at him, his bright eyes clashing with my dark ones. "Is there something you want to talk about?"

I paused, wondering if I should let him in this deep. I decided to.

"My mom died seven years ago today." I admitted, looking back out the window. "Roses were her favorite. Dad used to take me out to her grave to lay them every year."

He didn't say anything, locking his hand with mine.

"Used to?" He finally asked.

I frowned, "He forgot this year. Ever since this new girl Veronica came into the picture, he hasn't spoken about Mom. The fact that he's out with my brother right now instead of here reminscing about her just bugs me. This is the day we're supposed to remember her, even if for the rest of the year we continue with our lives. This is the day we're supposed to remember how much we miss her and how different things would be if she were here."

Alden had never lost somebody; He clearly didn't know what to say in this situation.

"If I were to die," I said, locking eyes with him again. "Would you promise to remember me every year on the day it happened? Even if you forgot me for the rest of the time?"

He brought my hand to his lips, kissing it gently. "I would never be able to forget you for the rest of the time."

I leaned forward, wrapping my arms around his neck, his went around my waist.

"I love you Big Red," he told me, and I knew he meant it. He hesitated for a moment, then pulled back to look at me. "Can you go look in my bookbag?"

I stood after a seconds consideration, going to get the black bookbag off of my comforter of the same color, pulling it open to look inside.

I pulled out a white rose and gave a small smile.

"It was supposed to be for you," he told me. "I stole it from your neighbor's yard on the way over here, I see the way you always look at them."

It was sweet, he had actually noticed.

"What do you say we go get some more, and we can go see your mother," he suggested. I turned sharply, biting my lip. "If...you would rather go alone, I understand, I just...i'll give you a ride if you want-"

"Thank you," I said quietly. He stood up, going towards the door to open it. I laid the white rose down on my desk, turning out the desklamp before I joined him in the doorway. "Hey Alden?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you too," I told him, and he knew I meant it.

"Yeah....I know."

He laced his fingers with mine once more, shutting the bedroom door behind us on our way out.

My mother wouldn't be getting white roses this year, they were officially associated with Alden in my mind now. Mom would have to settle for yellow tonight.


End file.
